Lyric Prose |

“Uranus’ OKCupid Profile”

Uranus’ OKCupid Profile

 

Sky King Star, 4.5 billion years — Outer Spiral, Milky Way Galaxy — 84% Match

He/His — Queer, Bisexual — Monogamous

Politically conservative – Employed full-time – Aquarius

 

My self-summary

Ice giant.

Luminous blue atmosphere, smooth

glimmer. Majestic orbit, silky corona.

Cold ultraviolet sheen.

Seventh wanderer. A bit lonely.

 

What I’m doing with my life

I moved to the outer solar system about 4 billion years ago.

I like it better out here  – nobody cares if I want to rotate

from east to west.

 

Six things I could never do without

I’m gonna cheat and say 27 things:

My moons … half rock, half ice, all heart.

 

I spend a lot of time thinking about

Why all this emphasis on having a solid surface? What’s wrong with being a mass of churning liquid? What even is a surface anyway? Why does everyone care so much about the outside and not what’s on the inside?

 

My golden rule

Don’t let some astronomer’s toxic

telescope pass judgment on you. They might say

your magnetic fields are “chaotic”

and “a mess,” but what do they know?

Give your time to the ones who see you

as you are: the soft gray

of your inner rings, the subtlety

of your seasons.

 

A perfect day

would be super windy,

retrograde at the equator but flowing with my rotation

around the poles.

 

I could probably beat you at

Spinning while rotated at a 90 degree angle.

I’d love to find a companion to enjoy this extreme sport with me.

 

The most private thing I’m willing to admit

I may look featureless from far away,

but once you get close, I promise

you’ll have all the storms and cloud formations you could want.

 

What I’m actually looking for

Someone ammonia- and methane-compatible

to swirl fluids together.

(Note: If you’re composed of solid matter,

we might not be a good match – my extreme

temperatures could destroy you.

Sorry.)

 

You should message me if

… you’re not going to make jokes about my name.

… you don’t mind life at a slower pace.

… you’re drawn to the twisted spirals

of my magnetic sphere, the way they extend

out into space: a shield of protection that opens

and closes in its own time.

 

Contributor
Meg Yardley

Meg Yardley lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. Her writing has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Salamander, SWWIM, Cagibi, Bodega Magazine, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, and The Women’s Review of Books.

Posted in Lyric Prose

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